DEATHMATE

Ariel had always believed the forest was the only place that truly understood her. People in her village whispered that she was strange, a girl who preferred moonlight to daylight, quiet streams to noisy crowds, old stories to new gossip. But the forest never judged. It welcomed her. The wind brushed her hair like an old friend, the leaves rustled whenever she hummed, and the moon… the moon followed her like it had chosen her long before she was born. That evening, the moon hung low and bright, painting the river silver. Ariel knelt to fill her jar with water when a sharp sound, a low, wounded growl, snapped through the air. She froze, heart thumping. Something was hurt. Something big. Ariel moved slowly along the riverbank, pushing aside ferns until she saw him. A wolf. But not an ordinary one. He was enormous, easily twice the size of any wolf she’d ever seen in the forest books she loved. His fur shimmered with shades of silver and storm-cloud grey, like moonlight woven into an animal’s body. His eyes, gods, his eyes, glowed a deep molten gold, both fierce and heartbreakingly tired. He lay sprawled on the dirt, sides heaving, one front leg twisted at an unnatural angle, blood staining the grass around him. Ariel gasped. “Oh no… you poor thing.” The wolf lifted his head, growling weakly, but it was more warning than threat. His body shook. He was in pain, terrified, and worst of all, trying not to show it. Ariel raised her palms gently. “Hey… hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.” The wolf stared at her like he was trying to read her soul. Step by slow step, she moved closer. He didn’t lash out. He only watched, intensely, suspiciously, with an intelligence that made her skin prickle. When she reached his side, Ariel knelt in the dirt, her heartbeat a drum in her ears. “It’s okay,” she whispered, half to him, half to herself. “I’ll help you. Just… stay still.” Her hands trembled as she examined the wound. The cut was deep, likely from a hunter’s trap, but someone, or something, had already tried to pull the metal out, leaving a nasty tear. He must’ve fought like hell to escape. “You’re a fighter,” she murmured. “Good. That means you’ll live.” She tore a strip of fabric from her skirt and gently pressed it to his leg. The wolf flinched but didn’t snap. His breath hitched, warm against her arm. Minutes passed. She cleaned the wound with river water, tied the cloth to stop the bleeding, and whispered soothing nonsense the whole time, the same way she used to comfort injured birds as a child. When she finally leaned back, exhausted, the wolf did something that made her heart stop. He moved forward, slowly, painfully, and rested his massive head in her lap. Ariel froze. “Um… that’s not helping me stay calm,” she whispered. But the wolf didn’t care. He closed his eyes, breathing evenly now, like her presence alone eased the pain. Ariel stared down at him, brushing her fingers through his fur. “You must belong to someone,” she murmured. “No wolf looks like you. You’re… special.” The wind rustled as if agreeing. Ariel stayed with him for hours, humming softly under the moonlight, unaware that the creature she was cradling wasn’t just any wolf. He was Kael, the feared Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack, and saving his life would awaken a destiny darker and sweeter than anything she could imagine.